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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429795">never meant for us to kiss like this</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar'>OnyourRadar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SKAM (France)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Art, Blindness, Bubble Bath, Drabble Collection, Dubious Morality, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Gangsters, Kissing, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Multi, Really I'll add more as I go, Snippets, Soft Boys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyourRadar/pseuds/OnyourRadar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From a series of Tumblr Kissing Prompts. </p><p>1. The one for comfort<br/>2. The one on a scar<br/>3. The one as a lie<br/>4. The one on a falling tear<br/>5. The one in anger<br/>6. The one for distraction<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The one for comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, I've  been neglecting my ao3 account and I'm sorry for that.  I will be uploading my recent kiss universe drabbles. They range from 400w-1000w+ </p><p>I have 4 of the prompts completed and I am half way done with the 5th. These should be uploaded and completed in the next week or so. As always! Thank you for reading and leaving thoughts.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Providing the little things in life</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1.The one for comfort:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas sets a mug of tea on the nightstand next to their bed and sinks down as he finds purchase near to the lump of blankets that he knows his boyfriend is currently hiding under. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott came home not 2 hrs ago, mood downtrodden and Lucas was barely able to grasp from him the brief overview of the disaster that was the meeting for his group project. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And tonight's shift was awful, someone overturned an entire shelf and just…" he sighs dejectedly. "I just need to go lie down." Eliott muttered, dropping a whisper of a kiss on Lucas' temple before slipping by and entering their bedroom and well—well, he hasn't  moved since. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With soft fingers Lucas brushes what he imagines is Eliott's  shoulders and he smiles  when he feels movement. Sees the way the blanket pokes  up in search before his hand is encompassed in a cocoon of warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eliott…" he whines softly, followed by a giggle as he moves with the gentle pull, until he is sprawled on top. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs when Eliott moves again the mess of blankets a hindrance in his endeavor to get Lucas under him, and yet, somehow he manages. His face and hands peek out and Lucas looks up fondly at the locks of hair that stick up in all directions, the flustered cheeks sure to warm to the touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I brought tea." Lucas whispers, just as Eliott drops his entire weight on to Lucas, boneless, and knocking the breath right out of him; chin resting on Lucas' chest, a pout on his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas lets  out a huff but doesn't  complain because he likes this, likes the feeling of being completely  overwhelmed, almost as if all his sense are overtaken—covered by Eliott's warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>" 'don't want tea." Comes the quiet response. Almost petulant and Lucas indulges because Eliott rarely gets like this, almost playful in his need for comfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mm, and what do you want?" He cocks a brow, looking down his nose at Eliott who looks, for all intents and purposes, like a kicked puppy. In search of something lost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott purses his lips and Lucas, grinning, lifts up a little and pecks his forehead. He's barely capable of maintaining a straight face at the affronted look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You missed." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"—aa, sorry. Here." He kisses the bridge of Eliott's nose, lips lingering a little longer. "Better?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little shake of his head, so Lucas kisses both his cheeks, stealing Eliott's warmth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did I get it this time?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"...almost." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although Lucas was sure he was the one providing Eliott this small comfort he still felt his heart flutter when he finally dropped a kiss on Eliott's waiting lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott's eyes are closed when he pulls away, a smile resting perfectly on his face, and the tension from earlier nowhere to be found. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How bout now?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Better, so much better." </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The one on a scar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How every part of you deserves a kiss.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The barest hint/reference to self-harm (not really) is mentioned but blink and you'll  miss it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>2.The one on a scar:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott's life has been a whirlwind of ups and downs. Churning thoughts and contemplation of things he could live with and things he could live without. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lives with a level of decisive indecisiveness that he is sure gives everyone around him whiplash. And all he wants to do on  his good days is apologize. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But apologies for being him don't  always make him feel good, yet the urge to speak it is strong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's lucky he has his friends. And Lucas, who is more than understanding. Lucas, with a small shake of his head and glassy eyes, tells him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop apologizing for being you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, without words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Eliott shows Lucas just how much he cares. That Lucas is a part of his life and without him,  Eliott might just lose to his thoughts. Eliott tells and shows him with small gestures. He waits until they're apartment is empty, all their friends gone home and their apartment is just  that—their apartment again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He runs a bath pouring more than enough soap for the bubbles to fill to the brim then works to bring some of their string lights into the bathroom and setting up the perfect glow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds Lucas putting cups and dishes away in the kitchen, back towards him and Eliott slides up close hands moving to hold hips that mold to his touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He loves the way Lucas fits in his arms, like he belongs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's go take a bath, we can clean up later." He whispers. Tomorrow or the next day. Whenever. They have their lives to do whatever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hum of agreement as Lucas turns is all the invite Eliott needs as he helps unbutton Lucas' shirt—walking backwards all the while trusting Lucas to guide him as he steals kisses, hands running over smooth skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets Lucas get in first before slipping in behind him and bringing the water over the edge. He thinks, having to clean this mess up afterwards will be worth it as Lucas chuckles and sighs, leaning back into the water and resting against Eliott's chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows Lucas understands, the silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you's </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his kisses pressed softly on damp hair, behind his ears, and on his temples. Hopes that he conveys it as he gently pours water onto him to wash away the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott knows Lucas understands, reads him like an open book and accepts him for all his worn out pages. Lucas grabs his arm and pulls them tighter around his shoulder and Eliott moves closer, willingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those fingers trail up and down. Stopping on the silvered skin that glows in the warmth of fairy lights, barely noticeable on the insides of his arms. Old and almost forgotten.  Lucas tilts his head and Eliott holds his gaze. Like always, Lucas tells him everything without speaking, bringing Eliott's arm up and dropping a soft kiss, there on his scars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without looking away, he does it again and again he says— </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop apologizing for surviving. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas leaves his </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the form of  kiss to Eliott's fingertips then turns away, leaning forward and gathering bubbles in his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott understands, loud and clear, and he feels filled to the brim with joy so much that his body can't  contain it and he drops his head, resting it against Lucas' back. Eliott presses kisses between his shoulder blades and says,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I won't."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments snd thoughts? The drabbles stand alone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The one that was a lie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He should have said, <em>anything but this</em></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed this one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>3.</b> <b>The one that was a lie:</b></p><p> </p><p>Lucas spent the last months meticulously memorizing every minute detail that Eliott had to offer; from the hour he was born (a pm baby) down to the color of his toothbrush and the brand that he always gets. </p><p> </p><p>When he's not paying attention (which was rarely) or making note of all the nuances—like how Eliott's favorite color was a very, very specific shade of blue— Lucas is trying to calm himself down. Because this is really happening. </p><p> </p><p>"What other choice do we have?" </p><p> </p><p>A plethora of scenarios, one being his very own deportation (which yes, would result in Eliott losing one of his top reps in the company)to Lucas going on the run (which was far more dramatic than Lucas could handle) popped up in his head. But marrying Eliott just to remain in the country never came up. Never crossed his mind. </p><p> </p><p>However, marrying Eliott because he was stupidly in love with him, did. </p><p> </p><p>So when Eliott asked, "What other choice do we have?" Lucas probably should have told him, a<em> nything but this.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Because he really wanted to avoid the mess that would be his emotions tangled all up inside him. Yet somehow, knowing this didn't  help. It was still was not enough motivation to speak up against Eliott's plan.</p><p> </p><p>"We're friends." Eliott said very casually, all big eyes and convincing smile. "We can do this and you know a lot about me already—what's a few more details?" Convincing who? Lucas isn't sure but it convinces him and the words make his mouth grow stale each time Eliott so adamantly speaks them.</p><p> </p><p>And really, what were a few more details? Like how Eliott sleeps on the left side of the bed even going as far as migrating there if he happens to fall asleep on the right side, some time during the night. How he likes to float a sprinkle of cinnamon in his coffee in the mornings. </p><p> </p><p>Even his porn preference, which thinking back on it, Lucas really could live without knowing. </p><p> </p><p>He smooths a hand down the front of his tux, fingers making sure that his satin blue tie was straight and knotted just right, and lets out a shaky breath. He looks around and feels that panic creep up again. A courthouse marriage.</p><p> </p><p>And the backdrop happens to be the forty something odd fake dates that they've been on since Eliott's grand plan was hatched and the still photos Lucas uploads to their instagram where they look like a real couple. </p><p> </p><p>(There's one that's  his favorite, where they both sit shirtless with Eliott  behind Lucas at their kitchen counter. His lips molded to the curve of Lucas' neck and those beautiful blue grey eyes peering at the camera through his lashes. </p><p> </p><p>Lucas looks at it from time to time, really likes how it makes his heart beat erratically and then he remembers how Eliott smiles at it fondly. </p><p> </p><p>"You should post that one, it looks real." And something grows sour in him. He keeps this one for himself despite knowing he should post it. For the likes, for the messages and the <em> proof </em>. )</p><p> </p><p>Technically, he thinks, once they both say their<em> I do's</em>, and sign the papers, it'll  be official. Lucas squashes the voice that whispers, <em> official doesn't mean love </em>, and makes his way towards Eliott who is waiting patiently for him. </p><p> </p><p>The softest smile on his face and Lucas feels how his nerves make themselves known again and he's  trembling as he repeats after the Justice of the peace (he swears he dies a little when he hears Eliott seal the deal with a confident I do). </p><p> </p><p>"You may now kiss your lawfully wedded husband." And his heart jumps up to his throat because really they've had months to prepare and, yes they posed for pictures, jokes and laughed and slept in the same beds. </p><p> </p><p>But they were friends. </p><p> </p><p><em> Just friends </em>. </p><p> </p><p>And Lucas wants so badly to back peddle and pull away because this is not how he imagines his first kiss with Eliott would go. </p><p> </p><p>But he sees it and doesn't  stop it. He watches and feels how Eliott steps into his space placing one hand on Lucas' hip (really, he is thankful because it keeps him steady) and the other gently caressing his chin (but also it also unravels him so entirely). The descent happens in slow motion and Lucas doesn't  quite slam his eyes shut or sighs in bliss like he wants to, thinking it might just unnerve Eliott if he were to do this. </p><p> </p><p>But he counts the seconds in his head and forgets breath all the while trying  to memorize the feel of Eliott's warmth. Lucas presses a little closer and when Eliott pulls away slowly Lucas can only hope his face doesn't betray anything. </p><p> </p><p>His feelings. His thoughts. Everything. </p><p> </p><p>Because while he never imagines this is how his first kiss with Eliott would be, to seal the deal on a sham marriage, he absolutely cherishes what is most likely the only time they will ever be this close. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't  want to trade it for the world ( but a chance to make this real would be nice)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments? I would love to see them 💜</p><p>Come scream at me on tumblr</p><p>@bluronyourradar</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The One On A Falling Tear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eliott wants Lucas to see how much he loves him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M SHIT AT POSTING</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>4. The one on a tear</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I miss seeing it." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words, said off the cuff and full of longing, has plagued Eliott for weeks. He wanted to say, </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know, baby, I know." But that would be a lie. Because Eliott didn't  truly know how it feels. So instead, Eliott held Lucas close so his back was so firmly pressed against Eliott's chest that there was no room to breathe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No room to question. And he picked up where he left off, murmuring in Lucas' ears, the description of his latest art piece. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He builds the images with his words, speaks of slashes in colors, drops of hues that splatter—he leaves nothing out and when he is done he repeats it over and over until Lucas can imagine it so clearly that all he can do is turn in Eliott's embrace, lock Eliott in with his cloudy blue eyes and smile wide, like everything Eliott was doing was perfect— </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Thank you." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>—when all he felt inside was that he was doing the bare minimum ever since Lucas lost most of his vision from an injury and no amount of treatment has helped these past couple of years. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could do <em> something </em> he thinks, mulling the words over in his head as he goes about his days. Something more than what he already was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What do you see?" He asked once, not too long ago, and Lucas could only shake his head and look away, shoulders dropping. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not enough." He whispered, voice sounding out like it skirted on the rim of broken glass. A sharp and hollow sound. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't  you want things to go back to normal?" Lucas would ask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Voice eerie and echoing with an acceptance that gnawed  away at Eliott. Because his baby was hurting and he wanted to help and it seems all he has done is hold him tight, hoping that Lucas could understand so clearly that Eliott would never not want Lucas—no matter what. That his normal was just that: loving Lucas until Lucas no longer wanted it. </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>So Eliott resolves to <em> show </em> Lucas. Because he could when the thought strikes him as he lays in bed Lucas molded to his side softly  tracing the bridge of his nose down to the bow of his lips. Eliott holds him there, presses a kiss to his fingertips that begs Lucas to <em> see </em>how much he loves him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The small breathless sigh and the way he closes his eyes, a slow blink, tells Eliott that Lucas does. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Has and always will. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes him a little more than a couple of weeks to complete it. The textured painting that he builds up by hand. He layers and layers and molds until he knows there is no mistake of what kind of picture he tries to paint. He captures his heart on canvas and hopes the jags of paint chips catch on Lucas fingers when he feels it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Touches it and sees. Eliott lays bare everything that Lucas should already know but Eliott doesn't mind repeating it. Saying it over and over again for the rest of their lives. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I love you, <em> I love you, </em> <b> <em>I love you.</em> </b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he leads Lucas to his studio, their fingers linked and feet carefully moving over floorboards— Lucas curious with his eyes blinking and nose twitching at the scent of paint—Eliott is a little more than a bundle of nerves. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eliott leads Lucas and leaves him standing in front of the canvas, taking a step back. He almost feels bad when Lucas is quick to turn his head in Eliott's direction, fingers twitching and grasping at air where Eliott was supposed to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Eliott, wha—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I painted something." Lucas gives him a slow nod, waiting. Head turning back to where he is sure the canvas sits. He bites at his lips. Hands coming up to cross over his abdomen protectively and his chin tilting towards the floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Aren't you going to tell me what you painted?" <em> Have you gotten tired of doing this already? </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Do you want to go back to when it was normal? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I want you to see it for yourself this—this time I want you to feel it." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hesitation in his smaller frame breaks something in Eliott and he steps closer till they breathe the same air. Steps close so that he can guide Lucas from behind. Holds him by Both wrists and gently lays his flat palms against the cooled paint.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This is my heart." He whispers into Lucas' ears, watching as this fingers ghost up and down the ridges, tracing out the paths of brush strokes and deep lines and grooves, valleys and curves and—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's me." Lucas gasps, eyes growing wide as he continues to map out his own face on canvas fingers playing over small bumps and realizes it spells out, <em> I love you, </em>in painted braille. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Eliott... I-I don't  know what to say." Lucas' breath catches in his throat and he hiccups, voice growing watery. His face morphed and his lips pulled down by his emotions, brows furrowed like he was going to cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eliott turns Lucas for a moment, loving how his fingers try hard to remain on the canvas, not ready to leave or let go of it just yet. He cups Lucas face, looks imploring into those blue eyes and just <em> knows </em>that Lucas can see him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It starts with one, then two, and Eliott bends to drop a kiss before the tears have a chance to complete their path down the curve of Lucas' cheeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He comes away with the taste of salt on his lips and love in his heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Say that nothing has changed, that you still love me the same way I love you." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lucas gives him a watery smile and stands on his tiptoes, fingers gripping Eliott's wrists for stability. Eliott meets him more than halfway; their lips pressed together, then pulling away before coming back in small tender kisses. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eliott hears him loud and clear.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I LOVE YOU ALL VERY MUCH</p>
<p>scream at me on tumblr: @  <a href="https://bluronyourradar.tumblr.com/">
    <span>bluronyourradar</span></a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The One in Anger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucas is angry...maybe a little jealous. Or a lot...yeah a lot.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"You sure this is a good idea?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas looks over at Yann who, for all intents and purposes, is avoiding his gaze and looking down at the phone he holds in his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas is mad. Of course this wasn't  a good idea but the way his blood boils, simmers beneath his skin. He feels hotheaded, mouth pursing and tongue licking away at his gums, teeth grinding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to bite away at something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be more precise. Yet at the thought of him, Lucas  clenches his hands, fingers curling into fists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do it." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lucas, really think this thro—"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He shouldn't  have let that bitch get near him after he </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>me he wasn't  looking." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And maybe he was being petty, acting like a child as he sat with his legs, clad in basic sweats, thrown over the leather arms of a wingback chair. His shoulders cushioned on the plump and quilted material. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignores the way Yann sighs and dials a number on his phone and not five seconds later, his tone is chirper as he greets the person on the line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Mr. Lallemant, how are—what? No...I mean yes. Yes, he is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas looks at his friend who has his head tilted back, brown eyes looking down the length of his nose at Lucas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas flips him off. They could all be angry together for all he fucking cares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well he wants to fire—well, no sir but...no sir," Lucas bits his lip, "it's  L-Luc...yes sir...yes sir." With a heaving sigh, Yann turns the call off and his hand running back and forth over his short hair in a show of agitation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did he do it?" Lucas asks and all Yann can do is tsk and nod his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know how much I hate talking with your father." He shudders as he recalls the conversation. "Fucking makes my skin crawl." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas wants to feel bad but in truth, he rather it be Yann, than him. He hates speaking to his father more than anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hates how the man talks to him like he is one of his underlings rather than his son. Like he owns Lucas, runs his life and makes his decisions much the way he does with his shady businesses and crime syndicates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Lucas has grown up under his thumb. He gives back as much as he gets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What now?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas shrugs. Picks up his tumbler of whiskey and welcomes the burn of it on the inside of his throat. The warmth of it settles in his belly and stokes the fire in him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pokes at his phone mindlessly and tells Yann,</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"We wait." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because if Lucas knows Eliott. He knows that Eliott would track them down. Even if it was technically his day off. Even if Lucas told everyone in his detail that they were not to tell Eliott where he would be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Eliott is—</span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at his job. He always knew where to find Lucas. And it drove him mad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't  want to be here for this shit show." Yann says this as he signals for the bartender to serve him up a short glass of fine whiskey from the top shelf and then settles down. If it were anyone else Lucas would have had them gone for even speaking out but Yann was friend first, employee second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas knows Yann won't  go anywhere. Even if a shit show was what they were going to get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not 20 minutes after the call, commotion from outside their private VIP lounge causes both Lucas and a Yann to cast glances at the door. That anger in Lucas that had died down during his wait to a tamed irritation flickers and reignites just at the thought of seeing that stupid smiling face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it's just as he imagines when he hears a thump at the door, some shouting and groaning. Lucas rests his chin in the palm of his hands, the arm of his chair used as a boost for his elbows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His foot bops lazily and his fingers curl on his cheek, pinky catching his lips and pulling it down as he stares, his eyes a rushing blue and ready to strike at the person who walks through  the door. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He is not disappointed—called it even, as his eyes narrow on Eliott, standing tall yet relaxed in his way. The tattoos on his arms bare in his black sleeveless turtleneck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas' fingers twitch with an urge to peel the shirt off him—revealing all the tattoos he knows is hiding under that shirt. He has seenint plenty of times already and he hates the way he craves for the sight of Eliott's inked skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ripped-blue denim jeans hug his thick thighs and his feet, clad in loosely laced combat boots, make no sound as he strides in the room with an unmarked confidence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's  that easy smile on his face that makes Lucas feel some kind of way. Makes him swallow tightly and breath hard and heavy. It's the same smile he offers when staring down any poor soul who has the lucky chance of being on the opposite end of Eliott's weapon of choice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it's  his semi automatic. Most times it's his favorite  butterfly knife that he is never with out. Occasionally it's  whatever he can get his hands on, and rarely—though Lucas can't  deny he'd like to see it more often for what it does to him, —Eliott uses his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks of mottled skin. Pretty purples and blue, a milkyway of bruises, marking up those knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas shakes himself from his thoughts. Brings himself back and finds that easy smile painted on lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stormy blue eyes dancing with laughter as Eliott brings up his right hand to pull at the collar that hides all those lovely flowers and words inked on the column of his neck and in his left hand he holds a gun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who made the call?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though Lucas is the focus of Eliott's  biting gaze he knows the taller brunette is completely aware of Yann and the bartender. Ready to spring if they even made a move that was out of line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Does it matter?" Lucas snarls. Because it doesn't. He had his father fire Eliott. He didn't  have a right to know insider information anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eliott scoffs and walks up closer, close enough to rest his boot on the cushion of Lucas chair, his stature looming. He leans down, forearm resting on his knees as he aims the gun at Yann, arms steady and eyes narrowed the slightest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You got daddy to fire me because you saw me fucking someone that wasn't you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked </span>
  </em>
  <span>her?" Lucas seethes. He shatters  completely, his calm shedding like a second skin and he can see the glint Eliott's eyes knowing he played right into the palm of his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lucille and I, we go way back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course I fucked her," he leans closer, hand moving up to grip tightly at Lucas' chin, thumb pulling down his lower lips and Lucas could almost taste metal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sad really, but how many times do I have to tell you I don't  fuck my employers." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's right. He doesn't fuck them, Lucas thinks. Just goes around taunting and teasing. Smiling that smile and allowing his eyes to soften just the slightest, every time he looks in Lucas' direction, and making Lucas feel special.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like he has a place there, right at the center of Eliott's universe. Like maybe Eliott didn't  just protect him because it was in his contract, but because  he wanted to see Lucas safe. Like he enjoyed it when Lucas curled up against his side and used his hard body as a pillow while he lounged and didn't treat it like a chore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas thinks so. At least, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> so. Images of Eliott and that girl haunt him and he hates the power he grants them. Because he wants Eliott for himself and wants that smile to mean something. That slow stretch of skin that drives him mad, makes him want to lean in and bite and nip and pull at plump lips until they are red and bleeding and singing a name that is—Lucas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucas, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Lucas.</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one else. Lucas is here and willing and would lay the world down at Eliott's feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he goes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucks</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas grinds his teeth and leans forward, his fingers gripping at Eliott's knee, leveraging himself up and he gives in— finally meeting those taunting lips. He pours his anger out into this kiss and it's a mash of teeth and tongue and a fire that has him chasing for more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not to be out done, Eliott's grip only tightens. He uses his height and position to push Lucas back down as he licks into him, teeth nipping and breaking skin. Eliott maps him out and keeps up the brutal pace despite knowing that Lucas was in need of breath. When he pulls away Lucas is panting, lips swollen and a cherry red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up at Eliott and wants to run his fingers through his hair, because he still looks perfect and unaffected while Lucas still attempts to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's  unfair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't  have to worry about that anymore, do you?" Lucas tells him, voice airy and words punched out of him. Staccato. He feels elation at the thought that, perhaps now Eliott might give him more than lingering looks and unspoken promises of heated nights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That perhaps now, Lucas' life with him would be more a conscious thought and not just another means for a paycheck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A snort of laughter from their left has Eliott pulling his trigger, unflinching at the sound of glass shattering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas shifts his eyes and sees Yann sitting at the bar. The pallor of his skin ashen as he stares at his wasted whiskey.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight stirs something inside him. Eliott never misses. An excellent marksman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Remind me to thank you, Yann." Eliott's voice cracks, and pride fills Lucas' chest and it threatens to overflow and force a smile on his face, because he did that to Eliott. He made Eliott sound like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For what exactly?" His friend speaks, calmly and slowly, lest he gets another bullet fired his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For calling Mr. Lallemant and getting me that raise." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucas feels the words wash over him. Feels like his world is turning upside down and he doesn't  know how to get back up on his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh. You thought you got daddy to fire me?" There is a kindness that is scathing in his smile and Lucas is weak for it. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Baby,</span>
  </em>
  <span> no." </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pls feel free to scream at me on tumblr! I have a crap ton of things I've  basically written on there that I have yet to post here. But 🤷🏻 </p><p>@bluronyourradar</p></blockquote></div></div>
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